Timothy Noah chatted with readers about The Sopranos on June 7. Read the transcript here.
Dear Jeff and Tim,
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StumbleUponYou know how our public institutions seldom seem as impressive when viewed from the inside? I held you guys up as paragons of our trade—I remember reading Noah's stuff by flashlight as a small boy on camping trips—and I've admired Jeffrey for years as the second-most prominent IDF veteran in American life (I was thinking of Rahm Emanuel, but come to think of it, didn't Gene Simmons also serve in the Israeli military?), and now this. I regard you guys as the Pros From Dover on all things Sopranos-related, and yet I'm forced into some pretty rudimentary explanations here. First, about the Bing: Every Sopranos fan with a pulse in or near the Tri-State Area knows the real bar is Satin Dolls in Lodi, N.J. The production designers cover the sign on shooting days, and it becomes the Bing. I was there as a guest of HBO for the shooting of a few scenes that have already aired. Remember the guy rooting for the Bills? That scene, among others.
About Southside Johnny (a staple of my high school years in Jersey Shore bars. Did I say high school? I meant college. It would have been illegal to have been anywhere alcohol was served at that tender age), while my busy life has prevented me from embarking on a DVR frame-by-frame examination, I sure thought I saw him standing in as Nancy Sinatra's band leader—and then I saw the credit. I could be wrong.
As to these wild theories about my visits to the set of The Sopranos, all I can say is this: David, as we intimates call him, correctly insists on a strict code of omertà regarding his show. What happens on the set stays on the set, until such time as it airs. Anchor comparisons to fictional characters? Not on your life. I will only say that I like to see myself as having the fidelity of Johnny Sack, the leadership skills (albeit mostly through fear and intimidation) of Tony, the quiet strength of Sil, and the aim of Christopher.
OK, this is where I get mushy. This has been an honor. Timothy: You and I have never met—but I told my wife just last night that my only previous contact with you was a condolence note I wrote to you after you lost your wonderful wife, Marjorie. She wrote a profile of yours truly for Vanity Fair, and she was a joy to be around. You were absolutely right to key in on the glance Christopher shot at Tony and Bobby—it was infused with anger and jealousy and sanctimony. In that great grilling scene, Tony then proceeds to patronize Christopher on the subject of nonalcoholic beer ... and Christopher oh-so-gently pulls back the curtain of myth surrounding his own father, by calling him a "junkie." Nice.
Jeffrey: You're a man of letters who knows his mobsters and realizes the beauty of this series. You and I have covered enough of these guys to know that the mob isn't about tuxedos, oak-paneled dens, kitten-stroking, and old Long Island mansions. The mob we know is about sleeveless undershirts (we all know what they're also called), lawn chairs, spec houses, overdecorating, and Escalades. Not that there's anything wrong with any of that. It's real—because David Chase knows from real—and because the very first rule we're all taught as cub writers is "Write what you know."
I can't participate in the Mix 'n Match game because it wouldn't be right. I cover the Bush administration. Some days more than others. On Monday afternoon, my wife and I attended a reception for the Queen at the British Embassy. There on the lawn, standing alone and off to the side, was Brent Scowcroft. I was gonna tell him what I knew about his portrayal in this column but I couldn't pull the trigger. I guess I just needed to know I was stronger than Christopher.
In a way, it took you two guys to bring that out in me.
This has been fun. Thanks for having me. On to the Final 4.
Best,
Brian
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Remarks from the Fray Editor:
As a basic cable slum-dweller, the Fray Editor has been following the discussion of The Sopranos with admiration and envy. The passion, erudition, and insight of the show's fans—Slate's commentators and Fraysters alike—proves the case that this series is not to be missed. Below, Fray poster lucabrasi considers how the 6.5 season story arc has led the show inevitably to the present moment.
May this weekend's finale exceed your wildest expectations. My prediction? Paulie Walnuts in the Bing with a shoe buffer.—G.A.
Remarks from the Fray:
I must salute the excellent close of the mob wars arc that started way back in Season One.
Looking back from today, with Tony's Jersey crime family indeed looking like a "glorified crew" in the eyes of New York, one can see it, almost clearly:
Season One: Tony's issues were of ascension in that smallish Jersey family. Jackie Sr. was dying; Uncle Junior was the designated "front don," and yet bitter enough about Tony's power to use Livia's ambiguous directives to hit Tony. Didn't work. Junior was exiled and took on Federal heat; Tony had the others killed.
Season Two: Richie Aprile gets out of prison. A theme begins: guys out of prison resent Tony, who never served. But Richie, too, is "local Jersey trouble." His escalating conflict with Tony is going to be dealt with rather easily -- Tony wants Richie hit, but Janice delivers a dose of even MORE "local" justice.
Meanwhile, I think NYC underboss Johnny Sack turns up living in Jersey, but promising Tony "I don't want to wet my beak."
The main NYC Don is Carmine Sr, an old school guy. Tony can deal with Carmine Sr, but Sack starts getting that lean and hungry look...
Seasons Three and Four: Other issues are on the table (Jackie Jr., Tony and Carm's marriage), but Tony's adversaries are manageable: made guy Ralphie and the ever-more-ambitious and angry Sack. Ralphie is eliminated, quietly (if NYC ever finds out...). Sack wants Tony to hit Old Man Carmine; Tony pulls out at the last moment. Sack looks to be vengeful.
Season Five: The big trouble all starts here, with the release of the "Class of '84". It's like four Richie Apriles. Tony has a lotta plates to spin: an old-timer named Feech who wants it all, locally, Tony's cousin Tony B, the "Rockford Guy" (Joe Santos) who Tony B idolizes as a father, and a real hothead named Phil Leotardo.
Carmine Sr. croaks. Phil joins with Sack against Little Carmine, Tony B joins with the Rockford Guy and Rusty in backing Little Carmine's play. Tony elects to back off and see how Jersey can benefit from the ensuing bloodshed, of which there is a lot.
During all this, two little matters occur: Seeking owed cash, Tony subjects Phil Leotardo to a body-breaking car crash and beats up Phil at the accident site as a "throw-in." Tony B kills Phil's brother Billy Leotardo.
In retrospect, these last two actions were perhaps...unfortunate.
Sack and Phil kill more guys than Little Carmine's team. Little caves ("It's a stagmire.") Sack ascends to Donhood. Tony can deal with Sack (having killed Tony B as a burnt offering), and Sack will stave off the still vengeful Phil Leotardo.
But right at the end of Season Five, the Feds nab Sack. Go directly to jail.
Season 6A: Sack's in prison, but the putative boss, with Phil fronting him on the outside. Tony's shot for a few episodes. The "gay Vito issue" gives Phil new reason for putting the pressure on Tony's Jersey boys. With Sack losing power by the day, Phil contemplates his rages against Tony: getting beaten up by Tony, paying money to Tony, brother killed by the cousin of Tony, gay Vito protected by Tony. Phil has a heart attack to match Tony's gutshot. Things seem peaceful between these two wounded warriors. But this guy Butch turns up, taunting Tony.
Season 6B. Tony's luck with New York runs out, via a series of crap outs: Sack dies of cancer; Doc kills Gerry; Phil kills Doc.. Phil is "the big boss man," finally, and the worst possible New York Don Tony Soprano could face. Filled with jailhouse vengeance and itching to consolidate power, Phil pushes Tony too far (with the sexual insult of Coco towards Meadow, ultimately). Tony retaliates (curbing); Phil says "there's nothing left to talk about," and here we are.
Now, I' m not sure how much of that was plotted early on by Chase and Company, but looking back on it, you see how this final, fatal gang war was literally years in the making. Tony Soprano fended off Jersey threats (Junior, Richie), kept the peace with Carmine Sr, dangerously dueled with Sack (the longest of Tony's strategic encounters), sat out the gang war to replace Carmine Sr...and ended up on the wrong end of Phil's bloody ascension to the throne of the New York Family.
Where things are now is where they HAVE to be. Inevitability.
--lucabrasi
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